


Pizza Tonight?

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Crisis, Fluff, M/M, Out-of-the-blue epiphanies, Some Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a regular phone call with Phil when Dan's subconscious decides to let something slip...<br/>And Dan goes catapulting into panic mode, leaving Phil dumbstruck on the other end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Pizza tonight? When do you get back again?” Dan balanced his phone between his ear and right shoulder as he put the last of the week’s dishes into their proper cupboards.

“Umm, train comes at six, so I’ll probably get back ‘round ten? And yeah, I could really do with some pizza.” Phil’s voice was muffled by the background noise of the station. Dan could hear shouting and rumblings of departing trains in the echo-y space.

“M’kay,” Dan was slightly distracted, content and somewhat surprised that he actually done the washing up for once when Phil was gone. Not that he never did the washing up, he just suffered from acute laziness when it came to the task.

“I’m hungry.” Phil whined into the phone. “Would it be bad if I bought two bags of crisps and ate them as I stand here? Wait, let me count how many bags of crisps I’ve eaten while I’ve been gone…one on the way here, two small bags on the bus--“

“Oh shit, I forgot to tell you,” Dan interrupted. He held the phone to his ear now as he began to make his way to the lounge.

“Yeah?”

“Louise called. She wanted to know if we’d be up for a “glorious adventure in town with your very-best friend Louise”—her words, not mine—on Sunday. She’s coming down with Darcy and is in the mood for a serious vlogging day.” Dan smiled a little at the thought of Phil, Louise (plus Darcy), and himself struggling along in London, making complete, and hilarious fools of themselves. One could never have a dull outing when Louise was involved.

“Of course, yeah. Should be fun. Never a dull hour where Louise is concerned,” Phil chuckled a bit and Dan noted their almost synchronized thoughts on the matter.

“So should I go all out on the pizza then?” Dan sat on the couch and opened his laptop.

“Most definitely. Hmmmm, maybe I shouldn’t go for the crisps then—Okay I’ve got to go. Gotta rush to the platform. I’ll text you on the way yeah?”

Dan began browsing, lost in the world of gifs and memes. He could practically feel his productivity going out the window. “Oh, um yeah. Sounds good.”

“Alright. Bye then.” Phil was pulling away from the phone.

Dan opened another tab and began scrolling. “Bye. Love you.” He hung up and tossed his phone to the other side of the couch. He’d order pizza in a minute.

Slumped on the couch, Dan filled the silence with re-runs of The Great British Bake Off and ate the remaining crisps left in the bag from his solitary night before _(Sorry not sorry, Phil)_. The light was fading outside and 47 sirens went off within the hour (he counted subconsciously). Periodically, a half-baked video idea popped into his head and he stopped all activity to record it in his notes. He checked his subscription box, refreshed his tumblr feed, fiddled with the apps on his phone, and texted his mum.

In comparison, a week without Phil was truly a dull time.

Phil. Oh yeah. _Pizza_.

Reaching for his phone and typing in the Domino’s number by heart (was he ashamed? Maybe), Dan let it dial and ring.

“Domino’s Pizza. What can I get for you?”

The thought of his order popped into his head. “Uh yes, I’d like to order three pizzas. Um, one with—“

_Bye. Love you._

The phone slipped from Dan’s hand and thudded to the floor.

“Hello? Sir?” The Domino’s girl continued to speak. It was almost comical—Dan sitting frozen in his sofa crease as a pizza girl spoke loudly from the floor.

_Love you._

What. The. FUCK?

Dan sprang from the couch and immediately began racing around the flat in full panic mode.

Nonsensical murmurings and occasional outbursts of screaming filled the hallways as Dan raced up and down, in and out.

Love? Phil? Phil and love? His face burned red and his palms were sweaty. His mind was reeling with every memory, every word he had ever shared with Phil. He began to analyze their relationship, their personal bubbles—the way they always invaded each’s personal bubbles—the tingly feeling Dan and been suppressing whenever Phil laughed or smiled at him or brushed his hand or said something incredibly, stupidly silly.

_Tingly feeling?!_ Oh ever-loving Christ--what was _going on?!_

Love as in actual love? Well, what other kind of love could he possibly be talking about? He supposed friendship could be love, but, did friendship love apply to this situation where Dan had fantasized, dreamed and wished for more than a friendship love? But he had been 18 years old then! Wait had he been 19? 20? 23??

Dan was beginning to hyperventilate.

Every touch. Every joke. Every stupid secret they had shared. Every moment filled with tension that would sometimes leave Dan in a mess on his bedroom floor.

Phil. Phil. Phil. Phillip Lester.

“Phil!” Dan yelled into the empty flat. Did it sound different out loud? The way he said Phil’s name? Was there more affection? More…love in the pronunciation?

Dan was back in the lounge. He could feel his legs giving out and he flopped back into his sofa crease, and then immediately sunk to the floor by his now dead phone.

He licked his dry lips and tried again.

“Phil.”

No. It didn’t sound different.

It didn’t sound different, Dan realized, because it had always sounded that way. Filled with loving annoyance, admiration, breathiness. Hope?

What the actual hell.

Then, Dan laughed. Out loud. It filled the whole flat.

It was blissful. And scary and wonderful and he felt the...relief gush through his veins. A relief he hadn't realized he had been waiting for.

Honestly. He was so bloody _thick._

His stomach clenched in anticipation. He couldn't quite picture it: Phil walking through the door. Would Dan...hug him? Hold him? Kiss--

Nopety Nope. Hang on. Back the fuck up. 

Dan's face flushed red as he sat alone on the floor. What would he do when Phil-- 

Oh god.

_Phil._

* * *

 

The moment the call had ended, Phil had stood completely still. His stillness was abnormal among the rushing, blurring bodies of the people around him. He was a statue of colorful mismatched socks and a brilliantly bright jumper surrounded by suits and shined shoes.

_Bye. Love you._

It rang in his ears, overpowering the voice over the intercom, over the sighs and heaves of the trains. Over the pounding of his own heart in his chest.

He didn’t know how long it lasted; how long it was before he took the silent phone away from his ear; how long it was before his eyes crinkled and his mouth turned in a glowing smile.

How long it was before, in a single daring, perfect moment, he said,

“Love you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Oh god.

_Phil._

Dan sat on the floor of the lounge, slumped against the couch. The TV was blaring. His phone was dead, all thoughts of pizza forgotten as his eyes widened in sudden horror of what he had done. Well, he hadn’t actually _done_ anything. He’d just said something.He noticed that the feelings of actually happiness, of actual relief, contentedness, comfort and that godforsaken _warm and fuzzy feeling_ had all evaporated in an instant. It was like he was freaking cursed to be in a constant state of severe anxiety.

While he’d been rampaging around the flat in a whirlwind of obscene panic and, apparently, sudden realization of his deep infatuation for his best friend _(oh god),_ he’d completely forgotten about actual Phil. Phil, who was on the other end when he’d let it slip. Phil, who could have fainted from the shock, could’ve tripped on air and fallen onto the train tracks, could’ve screamed in terror, been arrested, and gotten himself checked in to a mental institution for the rest of time…

But from all of those options, out of all of those ridiculous assumptions, there was one that made Dan feel as if he would lose complete control:

Phil could have hung up.

He could have just ended the bloody call before he’d even heard the words.

Dan could be swimming in his own filth of unrequited love and Phil would come home and he would NEVER KNOW.

And just like that, Dan was up.

He ramped up the pacing and the mumblings and the almost-tearing-his-own-hair-out actions. He was back to square one. Apparently, confessing your love to someone was not enough to keep you off the Crazy Train for even five minutes.

What would he say??

_Oh, hi Phil! Best buddy, coolest dude, my one and only love. The only person I’ve ever shared my whole fucked up life with. Partner in crime, best friend. Hello._

_Why am I acting like this? Well, not to freak you out or anything, but I basically love you and I don’t really know how to deal with that and my whole life is founded on suppression of my own emotions which really can’t be healthy and I think I’m having the biggest existential crisis of my life, and I don’t think you can help me through it this time._

_What? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Oh, well that’s okay. I’m just gonna go cry somewhere or sing an angsty song from the top of a building or gather a crowd and perform a really impressing flash mob where you’ll instantly recognize how insane I am and then you’ll leave me and…wait I lost myself there for a sec._

_Anywho, how was your trip?_

Or even worse, What would Phil say?

_Dan, I love you._

Or the worstest of the worst:

_“Goodbye, Dan.”_

Oh. My. God.

He should really write a book...well. He should really write a very _different_ book.  Twilight’s got nothing on his own mental breakdowns involving his love life.

Very recently renewed love life.

Could he even call it a love life?

SHUT UP, DAN.

Dan found himself splayed out on his bed. He gazed straight up at the ceiling and let the noises of ever crime-committing London wash over him.

All of the sudden, he was very, very tried.

And very, very aware of his overworking brain.

And even more aware of the pounding of his heart as he re-assessed his life.

_Bye. Love you._

No. It was a fluke. A mistake. A cruel trick of his own tongue.

Couldn’t he just fucking make up his mind? He needed a daisy chain for god’s sake.

_You love him, you love him not._

“Yes, Dan, because you’re a seven year-old child who can’t sort out their own feelings.” He muttered bitterly.

Dan closed his eyes and Phi’s dorky-ass face popped up in the haze.

What would it be like…to love Phil? Would it be any different from how he had liked Phil for the whole of their relationship? Would anything change?

How would it feel to hug for more than .5 seconds? To give into small brushes of the hand, pats on the back, fingers through the hair?

It was normal to like the feeling of your flatmate’s fingers through your hair right? Like the one time that Dan and kind of started to fall asleep and…

_Oh shit._

But that didn’t mean anything. Phil was his friend. He and Phil had a boundary, a line.

And Dan had just crossed it.

No, Dan had completely _obliterated_ it.

And Phil might not even know.  

All this was really beginning to wear him out.

His stomach grumbled.

What time was it? Dan fumbled around in his sheets for his phone, then remembered he’d left it all alone in the lounge.

He swung his jittery legs over the bed and shuffled down the hall.

 _Phil Phil Phil Pizza Phil_ he sang in his head.

Time for the loony-bin, Dan.

He reached down for his phone and then the remote to silence the soap opera that was now playing on the screen. How fitting.  

He straightened up, looking for a phone charger. Maybe he would text Phil.

Then, he heard the unmistakable sound of keys in the door.

Maybe not.

If he was going to launch himself out of the window, then he’d better do it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I didn't quite give you Phil, but I felt that Dan still had some freaking out to do.  
> Thank you so much for the lovely comments! I'm not so sure about this chapter and struggled a bit with writing it, but I'm hoping the next segment will be a bit more entertaining, and just generally more...nice? 
> 
> So stay tuned, I guess! Comments are always appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

This was it.

_Pizza_

Phil was fricking hungry. It had been quite the train ride, what with him regretting not eating any crisps, or drinking much water, or sleeping (at all). His stomach was in a constant uproar that he was sure he had annoyed his neighbors. His phone could only distract him for so long as the thought of hot, greasy, delightfully tasty pizza filtered in and out of his travel-fried brain. He could have gone for any type of pizza at the moment. He wouldn’t have put up any sort of fight as long as he got what he most desired.

 _Holy crap_ he was hungry.

Phil sat looking out the window, unable to see anything but his reflection due to the night that had fallen. He had his earbuds in, but no music played. He stared blankly at himself in the glass, yet behind his eyes, a whole wave of intense _thinking_ was taking place.

The thing was, pizza was sort of Phil’s ultimate distraction; he needed something tangible to keep himself, well, sane. If he focused on the noises of his intestines, then it was easier to ignore the pounding of his heart.

Phil had no plan for when he got home. He had no plan for what to say, how to act, what to expect from his friend. He was at a complete loss.

Train rides were supposed to be relaxing. He was supposed to feel a sense of happiness on the return home. Tonight, he felt nothing but pressure, tension, and a strong _fear of the unknown_.

He didn’t know if Dan had meant to say it— _love you._

He didn’t know if it was a joke— _love you._

He didn’t know why he, himself, had said it— _love you, too_.

Okay, maybe he did know why he said it. Maybe Dan’s L-word had catalyzed some crazy reaction within him. Maybe it hadn’t been a crazy reaction, but a suppressed one—like it had been there for a while, just being forced out when the circumstance allowed.

It was like a carbonated soda, Phil thought. You shake the bottle up a bit, and the bubbles overflow.

Phil’s head was full of bubbles at the moment. Would everything have to change then? Would it be different at all, to love Dan? _Love_ …what did that entail exactly, when it referred to your best friend? Phan was, as Dan would say, ironic. Wasn’t it?

Yeah, Phan was. But Dan and Phil weren’t.

It all came down to them, didn’t it? Dan and Phil as human beings and not as YouTube idols or role models for sexual identity? Dan had never liked labels, though Phil had never really cared. He just wanted everyone to be…satisfied.

And that was his fatal flaw.

Phil was tired of pleasing for justification. He did tend to give himself up to others just for the sake of leveling-out the situation. He liked to see others happy, sometimes at his own expense.

Of course, Phil knew that it wasn't the best thing to ignore his own feelings, his own wishes and needs of fulfillment. He simply thought it was better to help Dan first.  

So, Dan was satisfied with them as friends. Good. Great. That wasn't going to change. They were friends before they were anything else. And Phil, he loved that.

Phil also knew that there was always the potential to be more. It was never _not_ there.

But, the world was satisfied with them as flatmates. Dan was satisfied with the book, the radio, the collabs—everything was satisfactory with the label of Dan and Phil, the two most awkwardly dorky British boys on the internet. Dan was satisfied, so Phil was satisfied.

But the satisfaction then, Phil realized, was only surface level.

They always said they were happy (and of course, they were), but…was it too cheesy to say that “something was missing?” _Something_ along the lines of giving into the small things. Phil liked the feeling of Dan’s hand on his shoulder, his hands on his arms, his fingers brushing his fringe out of his eyes. Phil liked Dan’s laugh, he liked making Dan laugh. He liked scary, philosophical conversations in the early morning and Dan teasing him about coffee and his brain that was wired for random hilarity.

Phil liked a lot of things, and over 90% of them involved Dan.

Phil liked the thought of longer hugs. Of holding hands. Of… kissing?  

Oh man.

Phil’s stomach jumped and his heart slowed drastically while his brain went into overdrive.

He was such a child, honestly. Yes, Phil, people kiss. That’s a thing humans do.

But with Dan?

A shiver traveled along his spine in a sort of pleasurable way, a kind of scary way.

Yeah, he could kiss Dan.

In fact, maybe he had wanted to for a while. Like, a long while.

And that’s when it hit him, for a second, more solid time that evening. The train traveled along at its normal pace, the passengers fidgeted and the lights flickered every so often. But Phil’s body was flying through some sort of vortex into some serious epiphany.

He loved Dan. Yes, loved. There wasn’t much he could do about that fact

There wasn’t much he could do about the situation at all, other than _hope to god_ that Dan was still at home, not freaking out, maybe coming to a similar conclusion. Maybe.

Phil had no plan for reciprocation.

And he _absolutely_ had no plan for rejection.

So Phil sat, making no plans at all.

The train pulled into the station. A taxi was hailed. Phil was deposited at his door.

Stairs were climbed. Keys were retrieved and put into the lock.

This was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you, again, for your wonderful comments and responses to this piece. I really didn't think I'd be going all that far with it. But man oh man, I'm so glad you all are enjoying it.
> 
> Well...here's Phil's side. So I guess you'll just have to wait a little bit longer for the sh*t to hit the fan. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Phil opened the front door. He was surprised at the steadiness of his hands, considering that the rest of him was shaking just enough that he was forced to put down his bags for the fear of losing all control and dropping them. He took three cautious steps into the hall. It was silent.

“Don’t panic, Phil.” He whispered to himself. He felt stupid—he was sneaking around _his own flat_ for god’s sake. Why was he so freaked?

Well, duh.

All of the lights had been flicked on, a sure sign of Dan inhabitance. Phil made his way toward the kitchen. The washing up had been done _(wow, Dan)_ , so any traces of snacking were unidentifiable.

The flat was almost completely silent. There was no sound of piano melodies, or Mario Kart noises, or even Dan talking to himself during filming. There was literally nothing happening in the house, and Phil felt almost sick.

“Oh god, oh flipping hell…” Phil muttered as he felt himself break out into a nervous sweat. Was Dan even here? Did he leave? Was he hiding? Was this what rejection felt like—an empty home and an empty stomach?

Phil quietly cleared his throat.

“Dan?”

Phil expected several responses in that split second: one, Dan would answer and meet him in the kitchen, all normal and flat-matey and Dan-like; two, Dan would answer and be totally _not_ normal, and completely _un-_ Dan like; three, a kiss would be involved (why he was so caught up on the kissing thing, he didn’t quite get); and four, there would be no answer, Dan’s room would be packed up, a note would be found, and Phil would be alone.

What he had not expected was the piercing sound of glass as it shattered into a million pieces, followed by the all-too-familiar, rip-your-headphones-out cry of Daniel James Howell.

“Dan!” Phil stumbled as he took off toward the lounge. He rammed his shoulder into the doorway and tripped into the room. Muttering under his breath and rubbing his throbbing shoulder, Phil looked up to find his best friend staring straight at him, a wild expression in his eyes. Phil did not move, but stood, immobile, as they were both caught in the moment, unable to break away from the other’s gaze.

Dan felt his breath catch a little at the sight of Phil. It was really odd—just like, there was Phil, and there Dan was. And they weren’t talking. They weren’t moving. They were just…breathing, and staring, and…

_Say something, Dan!_

 “Fuck.” Oh, yup, alright. The first word’s out of your mouth to your best friend who just came flying into the room at the sound of your screaming. Wow.

“I mean—Jesus, Phil.”

Phil couldn’t help it, his lips turned up in a half-smirk, “Really? Where?”

Dan tensed and his arms flung wildly about him in hysterical gestures as he practically screamed, “I broke the fucking window!”

Phil’s smirk faded as his eyes wandered over to the windows. Indeed, one of them had a head-sized spider web of a crack right in the center of the glass. And, on the floor, lay Dan’s phone—completely obliterated by the force.

“What—“Phil started.

“You fucking scared, me you moron.” Dan was glaring now, not at Phil, but at his phone on the floor.

“So you just—just hurled your phone into our bloody window? What the hell, Dan?” The trance was broken and Phil moved toward the wreckage and kneeled down next to the phone.

“I didn’t actually mean to, Phil! It just, like, happened! It slipped, I whipped around and lost control or something, and it just—I just have—“

“Butterfingers?” Phil straightened up and turned back toward Dan, completely straight faced.

“Yes!” Dan threw his hands up and Phil stared.

Silence, all but for the whirlwind sounds of London muffled by the walls.

And then he laughed. Oh god it hurt to laugh so bad on an empty stomach, but that’s what Phil did. And he couldn’t stop.

“Phil?” Dan stood, watching as his friend started to slowly sink to the floor in a fit. His hair fell into his eyes and his arms and legs flailed on the floor.  Dan felt himself start to smile, laughter beginning to rise up inside him as well. His mouth opened, just about to join his flatmate and—

_Love you._

He just, he couldn’t suppress it. It wasn’t working. It bloomed in his chest and rose all the way up to cloud his head and he felt _good_. He didn’t want it to stop, no matter how scary it was, no matter how Phil might react, no. Maybe this was what was supposed to happen. Like some weird-ass fate shit or something.

Dan lowered himself until he was sat on the floor, slumped against the couch again as Phil slowly sobered.

The two friends sat on opposite sides of the lounge; Phil, on his back with his hands on his stomach, turned his head to stare at Dan. A puppet with his strings suddenly cut.

“Dan?” Phil pushed himself up, careful to avoid putting his hands anywhere near the shattered phone.

Dan nodded once, as if he were confirming a silent awareness, and then slowly rose, scooting himself across the floor toward Phil until he was sat so close that he could feel Phil’s breath across his face. He could see Phil’s eyes in utter clarity, count the lashes on his lids, and determine all of the shades of pink and red in his lips. This was Phil. Phillip Lester, like Dan had never let himself see before, yet whom he had always known.

Dan’s face was now so close to Phil’s, that Phil felt himself closing his eyes on instinct.

He had no plan, so why not follow this one?

Phil’s heart was going into overdrive. What if he had a heart attack right here, right now? Surely, it would kill the mood…

_This is happening, this is happening, this is happening._

Dan struggled to shut off his brain. He wanted to do this. He needed to find out…

“Um—“

“Sorry, t-that’s—“

“Hang on—“

“Phil—“

“I—“

And then it just sort of happened. Dan’s lips met Phil’s in a single, sudden move catching them both by surprise. This was not romance. This was a legitimate I’m-kissing-my-best-friend-slash-someone-I-really-love-for-the-first-time-ever-and-it’s-awkward-but-nice kiss. Or maybe it was just awkward.

The two sat on the floor and just _felt_. The warmth, the skin, the emerging mutual understanding (or so each of them hoped).

Dan let his mouth open under Phil’s and teeth scraped against each other. Phil reached his hands to tangle in Dan’s hair and Dan just felt so good that he couldn’t help but let out a small moan of sorts.

It was bliss, it was perfect. It was Phil.

His mind had completely shut down, and now Phil’s lips were on his neck and Dan’s hands were grasping Phil’s shoulders and Dan let something escape from his mouth, completely aware this time, as he whispered,

“Love you.”

And Phil drew back, wide-eyed and red in the face. Dan immediately stiffened. This was it.

“Dan,” Phil’s voice came out all breathy and high-pitched. “I love you, too. But—“

He didn’t quite get to finish as Dan had launched himself at his friend and pulled him into the tightest hug Phil had ever experienced. Dan tucked his head into the crook of Phil’s shoulder and let himself sigh, utterly relieved and completely worn out.

“Jesus on a boat Phil. You’ve no idea—“

“No, Dan, listen,” Phil smiled as he withdrew. He looked Dan straight on, his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth in that stupid, cheeky smile of his. Dan felt faint. He took in the scene around him: a smashed window, an annihilated cell phone, and Phil in front of him with swelling lips and the brightest gaze…it couldn’t have been more perfect if—

“I thought we were having pizza tonight?”

Well.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well everyone, this is it!
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for reading. I can't even fathom the response that this got; I'm thoroughly amazed and incredibly grateful!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented and gave Kudos. I am so appreciative--I got all of my motivation from you.
> 
> Until next time! (Sounds like an ending to a kid's TV show...sorry)


End file.
